


The Lion King

by elfin



Category: Black Books
Genre: Bernard Black/Jason Hamilton, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 16:54:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/310004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfin/pseuds/elfin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The travel writer, Jason, spends the night at the book shop</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lion King

Fran woke with the words 'what the hell were we drinking last night' mere moments from her lips.

But she didn't have to ask. She knew. She recognised the blinding headache, the desperate need to be violently sick despite having thrown up everything in the small hours of the morning, the way her tongue felt like it was covered in wet fur and tasted like soggy dog.

Absinthe.

Every time they drank it she regretted it and swore never to touch the stuff again. Until the next time.

Always until the next time.

She didn't need to open her eyes to know where she was. The leather sofa in the bookshop. How many nights had she spent on it? Too many. She should get herself a life of her own, she decided. But she couldn't remember much before meeting Bernard. She was never sure who she'd been before this place.

"Fran?"

"Manny? My head feels like a dead badger."

"Mine too. But it's worse."

She groaned softly. "Worse than what?"

"Look!"

Cracking her eyes open a fraction she saw Manny crouching beside her holding something up. Something black. Something made of leather. Jacket. A black leather....

She sat up suddenly, regretting it instantly. Her brain seemed to roll around in her skull like a bowling ball and for a moment she fought the urge to throw up her stomach. It passed slowly and eventually she could open her eyes enough to stare at the familiar leather jacket.

"That's Jason's."

Manny nodded once. "Yes, Fran. And you're clutching his shirt."

"What?" Glancing down she found that what she'd thought was a sheet someone had covered her with in the night was actually a crumpled white shirt.

"Oh, God." She dropped it into her lap, staring at it for a second before glancing at the jacket. "Where did you get that?"

"I woke up with it!" There was a degree of panic in his voice she suddenly understood.

"You don't think you...?"

"You're the one with his shirt!"

"You don't think I...?"

"You're more likely to have done, don't you think?"

"I don't know. I can't remember." That was the problem with Absinthe. You could never remember....

Heavy footsteps on the wooden stairs made them both start. Standing carefully, Fran took the crumpled evidence with her as they made their way tentatively into the kitchen, both fully expecting a half-naked Jason to appear God-like at the bottom of the stairs.

When, instead, an unshaven Bernard appeared they both deflated somewhat with the words, "oh, it's you."

He looked from Fran to Manny in vague disgust. "Excuse me for being alive in my own house."

"Sorry," Fran apologised reluctantly.

"Why are you both standing there like frozen lemmings?"

Manny started to bounce excitedly. "I woke up... with Jason's jacket!"

"And I woke up with his shirt!" Fran added, triumphant grin on her face.

Bernard regarded them thoughtfully. "That's nice. I woke up with Jason."

When it became obvious that the goldfish impressions were going to go on for some time, Bernard filled the kettle and flicked the switch, finding a relatively clean mug and a tea bag that had only been used once.

"You're lying," Fran finally remarked, with the confidence of someone who couldn't face the alternative.

"Why would I lie?"

"To wind us up. To make us think you're better than we are. He wouldn't want you over me!"

"Or me...." But Manny's stammered addition didn't have the certainty of Fran's declaration.

"Really?"

Making himself a cup of tea, careful to find the fresh milk in amongst the bottles of sour cream, Bernard settled himself at the kitchen table, eyeing his two friends with no discernible expression to reassure them.

Fran relaxed marginally, pulling out a chair and gingerly sitting down. "You're having us on," she smiled at him. "I'm the one with his shirt. I think we had a fun time on the sofa then he left."

"What about me? I've got his jacket!" Manny sat down hard, dropping the heavy garment to the table.

Fran looked pointedly at him. "Which you obviously stole when he took it off before he stripped off his shirt."

Miserably, Manny stared at the leather. There was no way of knowing but it was more plausible than his first assumption, he had to admit. Jason had been all over Fran all day and all night. And she did have his shirt.

"Morning, all."

Jason's bright voice drew the sudden and flustered attention of both Fran and Manny as they tried to reply without tripping over their tongues.

Half-naked as expected, the golden-haired travel writer padded across the kitchen and took his shirt from Fran's limp grip, shrugging it on before taking up his jacket.

He smiled warmly at both of them then dropped a hand to Bernard's shoulder. "Thanks for a great night."

Bernard smiled up. "Anytime."

"See you later, yeah?"

He nodded and took a mouthful of tea as Jason left.

Then, slowly, he looked back at his two friends, smiled indulgently and went to open the shop.

Fran met Manny's shocked expression with a matching one of her own.

"He's making it up. They both are. They must be."

"...."

"They're doing it to get us back for something we can't remember. They set this up."

"...."

"Manny!"

He shook his head once, quickly, mouth shut.

Fran sighed and headed into the shop, determined to find out what really happened. A moment later, as if just realising he was alone, Manny followed with jerky movements, banging his hip on the edge of the table as he went.

 

"Tell me what happened," Fran muttered, dropping into her usual seat as Bernard made himself comfortable at his desk. Manny skulked in the background.

"What happened when?"

He did seem too cheerful for a morning and that gave Fran cause for concern. Still, it could still all be an act. He had to be lying.

"Last night."

"Oh, you don't remember? That'll be the Absinthe." He said it scathingly and she stared at him in disbelief.

"Don't get on your high-horse with me! You're the one who's drunk 99% of the time."

He tapped out a cigarette. "But at least I know when not to drink Absinthe."

She crossed her arms on the desk and wished the elephants would stop jumping up and down in her skull.

"What. Happened?"

Leaning back in his chair, glancing at Manny who wasn't looking at him at all, he filled his glass from the open bottle on the desk and took a deep lungful of smoke before starting.

"Do you remember the restaurant?"

She thought hard. Yes! Jason had taken them to an expensive Italian restaurant on Covent Garden. They'd had one of best meals they'd ever tasted and drank three bottles of the expensive Merlot on the wine list and Jason had paid for everything.

Nodding carefully, she said, "I remember."

"And you remember trying to get off with the waiter?"

After hunting for that particular memory she moved her head side to side.

"Well, that didn't exactly endear you to Jason. But, obviously, you were too drunk to notice that and when we got back here you got out the Absinthe declaring we should all have a lick of the green fairy."

It was all starting to come back now. She looked at Manny whose face was the same mask of horror she knew was on her own.

Bernard nodded. "I see it's all coming back now."

"Yes. You said we were being silly and that drinking Absinthe was like sucking the devil's co-"

"Yes, I did and it is. But that didn't stop you and Manny emptying half the bottle, physically attacking Jason, stealing his jacket and his shirt but luckily collapsing unconscious on the floor before either of you had time to do any actual damage. After that... well... Jason and I polished off the nice little red I'd nicked from the restaurant and he asked me if I wanted to go to bed with him. I said yes, up we went and the rest isn't any of your business."

Fran decided she hated him, sitting there all smug and not hungover. Aching in all the best ways no doubt. His whole body looked sated and relaxed. Quite sexy actually.

She hated him.

Manny had taken to pacing backwards and forwards just behind her chair. She tried to ignore him.

"Why you?" she asked accusingly, utterly grumpy now.

"Why not me? Manny, for Christ's sake, will you sit down?"

He sat, perched on the edge of the sofa, still not saying a word, still looking at the floor.

"You're... you're you! You're smoky and winey and... and you're a man!"

Bernard tipped his head to one side. "That didn't seem to bother him. And he definitely noticed."

Manny muttered something but neither of them could hear it and they both ignored him.

"Don't tell me you took Jason - a man-God - into that... hellmouth of a bedroom of yours."

"Yep. Actually it's been quite tidy since Manny's moo-ma cleaned up around me that morning." He smiled, unutterably pleased with himself. Another mutter from the sofa was again ignored.

"Are you honestly telling us that you and Jason... that he... and you...?" She wiggled her index fingers around in the air in vague back and forth movements.

"Yes." He smiled coyly, "he wasn't bad for an Englishman. Odd how it's the people you least expect who turn out to be bo-"

"STOP IT!"

Bernard stared at Manny while Fran covered her ears and winced.

"What is wrong with you?"

Manny was on his feet, crossing the space between them, leaning heavily on the corner of the desk, "How could you?"

"How could I do exactly what you would have done given half the chance?"

"No! I wouldn't! That's not what I wanted."

"Really?"

"Yes. No. That's not the point."

"Then what is?"

"How could you? You? You're not interested in men, you said so. And if you were interested, which you're not, but you must be because you... with him, why him? What's he ever done for you?"

Bernard considered that. "Actually, he did quite a lot...."

"Shut up! You've barely known him twenty-four hours! He's just going to use you leave you! He doesn't care about you."

Still seated, Fran watched and listened to the exchange with a small smile.

"What are you talking about? We had sex, that's all. He didn't propose and we're not considering a long-term relationship."

"So you gave yourself away like some... some whore?"

Lost for words, Bernard stubbed out his cigarette and turned to Fran. "You're a woman, you have emotions. You deal with him and give me the gist of it when I get home."

She glanced up. "Bernard...."

"Don't start."

Pushing his chair back, he grabbed his coat from the peg.

"Where are you going?"

He nailed Manny with a steel gaze. "Out. By the time I return I expect you to be behaving normally and not talking rubbish."

She tried again. "Bernard!"

"I said, don't! I've had a wonderful night, I'm going for a walk in the sunshine."

But Manny beat him to the door, hand on the jamb. Bernard growled but Manny ignored him.

"If you walk out now I'll have left by the time you get back."

Having turned around on her seat at the desk, Fran lit a cigarette, impressed by today's show. Bernard was studying Manny intently, obviously also aware that this was somewhat out of the ordinary.

"No, you won't."

"I will. I mean it this time."

Bernard hesitated but he stepped forward, reaching for the door handle. Manny backed off but didn't look away as Bernard opened the door and took another step before pausing.

Then he slammed it shut with an almighty rattle of glass and yelled, "Why will you have left?"

Relieved, Manny slipped back into the kid gloves. "Because it's not right."

"What isn't right? Me and Jason?"

"Yes."

"Why? Because he chose me over you two? Or because he actually found me attractive and you can't believe anyone would ever find me attractive?"

"No! It isn't that."

"Then what? Did you want him so much that you're so jealous of me...."

"I'm not jealous of you!" Manny overrode him, hands out, fingers spread, desperate for Bernard to understand. "I'm jealous of him."

The quiet confession was followed by a deathly hush. But with that out in the open, Manny decided he might as well hang himself as he already had his head in the noose.

"Four years I've been living here, looking after you. Cooking, cleaning, making sure you don't drink yourself to death by ensuring you eat. All I get is insulted and yelled at and occasionally burnt or stapled. But I don't mind because it's you and you're... you're worth it. Then along comes a young golden-haired god and you're all smiles and making the tea and offering yourself to him on a silver platter."

Fran tore her eyes from Manny's expressive face for just a moment to bask in the utter amazed confusion on Bernard's.

"He doesn't care about you, you're just another willing body for him to rape and plunder and leave discarded on the side of the road of his exciting life. I care for you. I love you. And all I get is insulted and yelled at and occasionally burnt or stapled."

Fran lifted her head and called out, "You said that."

Both men turned in perfect sync. "Shut up!"

She went back to grinning behind her hand.

Bernard stuffed his hands in the deep pockets of his long coat and leaned back against the wall between the door and the bookshelf, sighing loudly like this was the very last thing he needed.

"Why do you love me?" he asked the dirty floor.

"I don't know."

"But you do?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you say before?"

"You told me you weren't interested in men!"

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did."

Fran popped her head up again. "Actually, he didn't. He said...."

"Shut up!"

Manny rubbed his eyes with his fingers. "I'm sorry about... what I called you."

Bernard shrugged, pushing his hair off his face. "He's the first man or woman I've slept with in years."

"I know."

"And for the record, no one rapes or plunders this body without losing important parts of their own."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Throwing her arms in the air, Fran sat back. "Don't apologise!"

"Will you SHUT UP!" Bernard stared at her. "What are you still doing here anyway? This should be a private conversation."

She shook her head with a grin. "Nothing between you two is ever private. It's loud, it's noisy, it's often violent and it's always pure entertainment." The Absinthe hangover was the worst, plus Jason had passed her over for a drunken smelly Irishman. She was desperate to share the misery with as many others as possible, especially Bernard.

He looked at her for a long time then, finally, he looked at Manny and held out his hand.

Manny was instantly suspicious. "What?"

Bernard wiggled his fingers. "Come on."

Tentatively, he reached out and took the offered hand. And as he did, Bernard pushed himself away from the wall and pulled Manny toward him.

Without any show, he brought them together and kissed him.

No noise, no violence.

Fran stared, open-mouthed, at one of the most incredibly erotic sights she'd ever seen.

Ending the kiss with a very private smile just between the two of them, Bernard stepped back and still holding on to Manny's hand he said quietly,

"Please don't leave."

Eyes wide, Manny shook his head slowly. "Never."

"Good." Then he turned to Fran. "You. Find somewhere else to be tonight, we'll be busy." Her grin managed to show off every tooth. "I am going for a walk. I've run out of cigarettes. By the time I get back I want every inflatable in this place deflated and disappeared - with the exception of that cactus -and my bookshop back to looking like the dusty hole it's supposed to be and not the arse-end of some tropical jungle."

Manny frowned. "Why the cactus?"

"I promised Jason he could have it. He said I reminded him of a cactus."

"What? Green with an appreciation of heat and sand?"

Bernard let go of Manny's hand and opened the door again. "No. Long and thick. And a bit spiky."

With a small shrug he left them to it.


End file.
